You can barely turn on the TV without some reality programme featuring “celebrities” tackling a challenge new to them. Forgive my cynicism, but much of the time we can be forgiven for barely recognising many of them

I have written a poem about those people, actors, singers, sportswomen and men etc., who are lured out of (semi-) retirement and obscurity and the fickle public who make or break them…

I once was the toast

Of film, of TV.

Couldn’t open a paper

Without something ’bout me.

I was the face of the 80s

I was hip, I was hot

Now I’m just me

I’m not known, I’m just NOT.

Now I’m deffo not A list

Or B. Maybe C

But I need the exposure

On prime time TV.

So I’ll enter the jungle

Eat kangaroo penis

To remind you – vaguely

As to just where you’ve seen us.

Put my body through hell

And humiliation

But I’ll be on the lips

Of each bod in the nation.

I’ll tackle the bitching

Of Celeb Big Brother

So I’m not considered

As just A N other.

I’ll dance or I’ll skate my way

Into your brain

But come a new year

I’ll be forgotten again.